Chapter 3
Wes’s hoarse voice snaps me back to reality.
“How did you find me?” I pant, looking up into his eyes.
“Stay quiet and move,” he growls, grabbing my wrist.
“Whoa, cutie-pie,” Adam says, standing up from his stool. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Shut up and stay the fuck out of my business, pretty boy,” he hisses.
“Yeah … we’re not doing this. Let her go.”
“Back off,” Wes threatens, pulling me closer and pointing his gun at Adam.
Everyone in the bar is looking at us already. The bartender is talking on the phone—probably calling the cops.
“Wes, no!” I gasp with terror.
Adam calmly looks at the gun pointing at him and chuckles, as if he’s amused. “Let me guess. You’ve never done this before.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t be good at it,” Wes replies, his evil smirk becoming broader.
“Wes, stop!” I squeal.
“I said shut up.”
“And I said let her the fuck go,” Adam says calmly, his eyes never leaving Wes’s.
Wes shoves me behind him, steps closer to Adam, and presses his gun below his jaw. “Or what?”
“Stop it already!” I yell desperately.
Adam still seems calm. Entertained, even.
Two more of my father’s men enter the bar, guns pointed at him.
“That’s actually flattering.” Bravely, he takes a step closer to Wes and peers deeper into his eyes. “Can’t deal with a simple pretty boy on your own?”
What the hell is he doing?
I can’t see Wes’s face, but he puts the guns right back in his waistband.
Suddenly, he grabs Adam’s shirt and pushes him through the throng, crashing the stools in their way.
Oh, God, no …
The two other bodyguards leap into the brawl. It’s not fair! Adam is alone and they’re three.
But Adam, rough and relentless, takes the two of them on with ease. He punches, kicks, even shatters stools over their backs, earning cheers from the crowd that quickly turns the fight into a betting frenzy.
He’s an animal.
My father’s men are vicious, the toughest I know, and he’s handling them. Alone.
Then, a gunshot rings out, making everyone in the bar duck down.
Mio padre … My father.
He saunters in slowly, his cigar dangling casually from his lips, and six more of his crew follow close behind, their guns raised and loaded.
Colton is one of them.
His gaze is softer. I know he’s not a fan of this shitty job, but he has a family to support, so I get it—I guess.
“What? A boyband runaway?” Adam jokes.
Dad signals to two of his men behind Adam—where the hell did they come from?—and they grab his arms, wrenching them behind his back before kicking him in the knees. With a groan, he drops to the floor.
A cold prickle crawls up the back of my neck.
My pulse hammers so loud it drowns everything else out.
Father is ruthless with everyone around him, and Adam just handed him the perfect excuse to call him a threat.
Talking to his runaway daughter? The worst sin that anyone could commit.
At least by my father’s twisted standards.
“What do we have here?” Dad says, inhaling his cigar.
“Dad?!”
“Hush,” he hisses, striking me with the back of his hand. My head snaps to the side. “You disobeyed me. Again.”
I taste blood. “Maybe if you’d listened to me for once in your damn life, I wouldn’t have to,” I shout, feeling the tears pooling in my eyes.
“Silence.” He tosses the cigar on the floor and steps on it. “I don’t have the time to deal with your childish behavior.”
I don’t speak again. No words could ever wash away all the shame in my heart about this.
Father prowls closer to Adam, stomping his fancy cane next to his feet with menace.
“Who is this filthy rat who dares to mess with my men?”
“Let me guess … Daddy dearest?” Adam quips.
The handle of the cane meets Adam’s chin and cranes his head up to meet Father’s gaze.
“That mouth of yours is going to make a beautiful trophy when I rip it off your corpse.”
Adam sneers. “Go ahead. Just don’t cry when it still talks back from the shelf.”
One of the men who holds him in place punches his ribs with an iron fist, causing him to groan loudly.
“You’re too loud,” Father says, dusting his coat sleeves off.
“It’s one of my many virtues,” Adam pants sarcastically.
What the hell is he doing? Has he realized he’s literally treading on thin ice?
“Get rid of him,” Father says quietly, turning his back.
“No!” I yell, rushing in front of Adam. “I want him as my personal bodyguard.”
“What?” Wes snaps.
“What?” Adam repeats.
“He was fighting three of your best men on his own. He’s more capable than anyone I’ve ever seen,” I rasp.
God, I’m shaking so badly. I shouldn’t have said that, but it seemed the only way to save him. He’s innocent.
“Is this a joke?” Father scoffs.
“Not at all.”
My chin is trembling, and I’m trying to keep it steady.
Dad doesn’t speak, as if he’s contemplating my offer. This waiting is killing me.
He clicks his tongue. “Fine. But he needs to earn it.”
“Hello? I’m here,” Adam jeers.
“I just told you what he did. He already has.”
“I didn’t see it.” He gestures for his men to step forward, then takes a seat in the chair behind him. “Entertain me.”
No one moves. No one except his personal bodyguard.
Boris Kovachev, a Bulgarian built like a tank and feared by anyone with sense. He’s been at Father’s side for over a decade, loyal as a dog and twice as dangerous. That’s exactly why Father chose him.
The men let Adam go and he stands up, looking Boris in his eyes.
“So I have to fight the fucking Yeti? For what?” He spreads his arms wide and looks at me, puzzled.
“Please,” I mouth desperately, almost begging. He doesn’t see that this is the only way for him to stay alive.
His eyes soften, and he buries his face into his palms, letting out a scornful sigh.
“Ugh, fine.”
“Neka da vidim kakvo imash, krasavetso,” Boris hisses, punching his palm. Let’s see what you’ve got, pretty boy.
“That sounds cute,” Adam says, cracking his neck. “Let’s see those pirouettes, you fucking creep.” He jumps in the air twice.
“You talk too much,” Boris growls, that heavy Slavic accent dragging every word. Then he leaps at Adam, and Georgi follows.
Oh my God, I can’t watch this. I turn my back and keep praying for Adam to get back alive from this. I try to read the faces around me. Dad’s face is absolutely unreadable. Actually, no. He seems amused, as if watching his favorite show. Such a sadistic man.
“Ohh!” Dad’s men say in unison, scrunching their faces just before I hear a loud smack as someone hits the ground. Then another.
I turn just as Adam pushes himself upright, chest heaving, blood smeared across his mouth as he wipes it away with his hand.
Was that all it took?
Boris is sprawled on the ground, barely moving. Georgi lies flat on his back, eyes blown wide, staring at nothing.
Is he … dead?
“Now the show is over, can we all go home?” he taunts, looking at my father.
“No,” Dad says, standing up from the chair. “You’re hired.”
He tilts his head, almost smiling. “Appreciate the offer. Still no.”
Wes points a gun at him again. Ugh, questo bastardo! This bastard!
“Wes!” I shout.
“You just don’t quit, do you?” Adam quips, looking at Wes.
“You’ve been given an order.”
“By whom? The limp with the cane who needs backup just to look like a badass?” He looks at me. “Respectfully.”
At that, everyone points their guns at him.
“Dad, stop it!” I squeal desperately, but I know my voice has no power.
“What makes you think I’m scared?” Adam asks.
Suddenly, Wes grabs my wrist and presses the muzzle against my temple. Adam tenses. “What about now, lover?”
“Wes, what the hell are you doing? Dad?”
One more time, my voice goes unheard. I’m standing dead center in the chaos, ashamed of the mess my family is and terrified of the man who’s supposed to love me unconditionally. And Dad doesn’t even blink when Wes points a fucking gun at his daughter.
He just turns his back … and walks the fuck away.
“Shut up. Boss wants him. He doesn’t repeat himself,” Wes hisses angrily.
“Come on, you think I believe you’ll hurt your boss’s precious princess?” Adam crosses his arms.
Wes cocks the gun’s hammer, making my eyes widen. “No! No, what the hell? You’ll let him kill me?”
Adam pauses for a few seconds, his expression turning solemn and his eyes hollow. “I don’t care.”
Wes presses the gun to my temple, making me hiss. “You’re hurting me!”
Adam’s jaw locks so hard it looks like it might crack. His fists ball at his sides, his knuckles turning white. “Get it off her.”
“Are you coming?” Wes asks him.
He doesn’t speak, as if he’s trying to contemplate or calm himself down. I can’t believe what’s happening. It’s like watching a nightmare unfold while I’m wide awake, and no one’s stopping it.
Wes presses the muzzle harder, drawing a louder groan from my lips.
“Yes,” Adam hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes dark with fury.
My eyes sting as tears well up. I knew I was pulling him into something twisted, but I hadn’t realized how far the sickness spread.
I’ve shackled him to me in a way that can’t be undone.
Not unless one of us dies. The way his eyes land on me, emanating pure fury, makes the guilt clamp tighter around my throat.
I did this. I ruined his life while he was trying to save me.
“Good boy,” Wes says sternly, lowering the gun. “You’re coming with us tonight.”